I apologize if this is a duplicate post; for some reason, the one I posted earlier isn't showing up. Foiled by technology again!
Cara Losier Chanoine ENGL 864 Response for 6/24/14
The first writing prompt listed for today asks for a personally subjective definition of love poetry. In considering how I view love poetry as subgenre, I find that I like to work with a broad definition of what counts as love. This means moving beyond traditional ideas of romance. (The dictionary definition, not the movement J) I try to interpret as love poems any works that deal with emotional attachment , be it toward person, place, or something else entirely. That being said, poems that deal with interpersonal attachment do certainly have a place within this view. In reading Sonnets from the Portuguese as love poems, one thing that I was conscious of was the role of the speaker, who is addressing directly the object of her affection. This is an approach that persists, suggesting a directness in establishing primary purpose. On a basic level, these love poems are not coded. Their intentions are clear. However, this is certainly not to say that the qualities that distinguish these as love poems are always overt. One of my favorite moments of symbolic meaning in this collection opens Sonnet XVIII: “I never gave a lock of hair away/To a man, dearest, except to thee,/Which now upon my fingers thoughtfully,/ I ring out the full brown length and say/ Take it…” (148). I’m really fascinated by the significance that is attached to the lock of hair as an object in literature. My mind immediately went to Pope’s The Rape of the Lock, and all of the implications there. While I don’t think that the lock of hair necessarily functions in the same manner in Browning’s poem, I do think that it’s a telling connection in terms of the ways we could read it. On the other hand, the presence of the lock of hair also functions in a very innocent way in literature, as a sign of devotion. This reference is pretty out of left field, but I’m thinking as an example of reading Anne of Green Gables when I was young. There’s a scene where Anne asks Diana for a lock of her hair as a pledge to friendship. Given these multiple contexts, the lock of hair becomes an object of devotion or passion that is ripe for interpretation. On one hand, the lock of hair could be symbolic of a more physical connection or desire. However, it could also be read as a pledge of love that extends beyond the sensual. The context provided by the rest of the poem both complicates and clarifies. There is a sense of bereavement that seems to connote transition. I guess, that in this regard, my cursory analysis is somewhat inconclusive. As I mentioned earlier, I’m also really interested in love poems that are “non-romantic.” As an example of what I mean, I’m including the text of Patricia Smith’s Hip Hop Ghazal:
Hip-Hop Ghazal
By Patricia Smith
Gotta love us brown girls, munching on fat, swinging blue hips, decked out in shells and splashes, Lawdie, bringing them woo hips.
As the jukebox teases, watch my sistas throat the heartbreak, inhaling bassline, cracking backbone and singing thru hips.
Like something boneless, we glide silent, seeping 'tween floorboards, wrapping around the hims, and ooh wee, clinging like glue hips.
Engines grinding, rotating, smokin', gotta pull back some. Natural minds are lost at the mere sight of ringing true hips.
Gotta love us girls, just struttin' down Manhattan streets killing the menfolk with a dose of that stinging view. Hips.
Crying 'bout getting old—Patricia, you need to get up off what God gave you. Say a prayer and start slinging. Cue hips.
As the jukebox teases, watch my sistas throat the heartbreak, inhaling bassline, cracking backbone and singing thru hips.
Like something boneless, we glide silent, seeping 'tween floorboards, wrapping around the hims, and ooh wee, clinging like glue hips.
Engines grinding, rotating, smokin', gotta pull back some. Natural minds are lost at the mere sight of ringing true hips.
Gotta love us girls, just struttin' down Manhattan streets killing the menfolk with a dose of that stinging view. Hips.
Crying 'bout getting old—Patricia, you need to get up off what God gave you. Say a prayer and start slinging. Cue hips.
I also read this as a love poem due to devotion it expresses toward identity and body. Not only is this poem not about interpersonal love, but it’s also not about external love. I guess that I see love poetry as a fairly vast and complicated concept with many subsets.
Cara Losier Chanoine
ENGL 864 Response for 6/24/14
The first writing prompt listed for today asks for a personally subjective definition of love poetry. In considering how I view love poetry as subgenre, I find that I like to work with a broad definition of what counts as love. This means moving beyond traditional ideas of romance. (The dictionary definition, not the movement J) I try to interpret as love poems any works that deal with emotional attachment , be it toward person, place, or something else entirely. That being said, poems that deal with interpersonal attachment do certainly have a place within this view.
In reading Sonnets from the Portuguese as love poems, one thing that I was conscious of was the role of the speaker, who is addressing directly the object of her affection. This is an approach that persists, suggesting a directness in establishing primary purpose. On a basic level, these love poems are not coded. Their intentions are clear. However, this is certainly not to say that the qualities that distinguish these as love poems are always overt. One of my favorite moments of symbolic meaning in this collection opens Sonnet XVIII: “I never gave a lock of hair away/To a man, dearest, except to thee,/Which now upon my fingers thoughtfully,/ I ring out the full brown length and say/ Take it…” (148). I’m really fascinated by the significance that is attached to the lock of hair as an object in literature. My mind immediately went to Pope’s The Rape of the Lock, and all of the implications there. While I don’t think that the lock of hair necessarily functions in the same manner in Browning’s poem, I do think that it’s a telling connection in terms of the ways we could read it. On the other hand, the presence of the lock of hair also functions in a very innocent way in literature, as a sign of devotion. This reference is pretty out of left field, but I’m thinking as an example of reading Anne of Green Gables when I was young. There’s a scene where Anne asks Diana for a lock of her hair as a pledge to friendship. Given these multiple contexts, the lock of hair becomes an object of devotion or passion that is ripe for interpretation. On one hand, the lock of hair could be symbolic of a more physical connection or desire. However, it could also be read as a pledge of love that extends beyond the sensual. The context provided by the rest of the poem both complicates and clarifies. There is a sense of bereavement that seems to connote transition. I guess, that in this regard, my cursory analysis is somewhat inconclusive.
As I mentioned earlier, I’m also really interested in love poems that are “non-romantic.” As an example of what I mean, I’m including the text of Patricia Smith’s Hip Hop Ghazal:
Hip-Hop Ghazal
By Patricia Smith
Gotta love us brown girls, munching on fat, swinging blue hips,
decked out in shells and splashes, Lawdie, bringing them woo hips.
As the jukebox teases, watch my sistas throat the heartbreak,
inhaling bassline, cracking backbone and singing thru hips.
Like something boneless, we glide silent, seeping 'tween floorboards,
wrapping around the hims, and ooh wee, clinging like glue hips.
Engines grinding, rotating, smokin', gotta pull back some.
Natural minds are lost at the mere sight of ringing true hips.
Gotta love us girls, just struttin' down Manhattan streets
killing the menfolk with a dose of that stinging view. Hips.
Crying 'bout getting old—Patricia, you need to get up off
what God gave you. Say a prayer and start slinging. Cue hips.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/179809Gotta love us brown girls, munching on fat, swinging blue hips,
decked out in shells and splashes, Lawdie, bringing them woo hips.
As the jukebox teases, watch my sistas throat the heartbreak,
inhaling bassline, cracking backbone and singing thru hips.
Like something boneless, we glide silent, seeping 'tween floorboards,
wrapping around the hims, and ooh wee, clinging like glue hips.
Engines grinding, rotating, smokin', gotta pull back some.
Natural minds are lost at the mere sight of ringing true hips.
Gotta love us girls, just struttin' down Manhattan streets
killing the menfolk with a dose of that stinging view. Hips.
Crying 'bout getting old—Patricia, you need to get up off
what God gave you. Say a prayer and start slinging. Cue hips.
I also read this as a love poem due to devotion it expresses toward identity and body. Not only is this poem not about interpersonal love, but it’s also not about external love. I guess that I see love poetry as a fairly vast and complicated concept with many subsets.